


to the negotiating table

by jamesstruttingpotter



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, M/M, Prompt Fic, bellamy and clarke are both chiefs of their own grounder clans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 10:44:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4476413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamesstruttingpotter/pseuds/jamesstruttingpotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy likes to think of himself as pretty tough. As the chief of Ceekru at only twenty three years of age, he'd say he's earned the title, too.<br/>As Octavia likes to point out, however, "tough" doesn't get them wheat.<br/>But trying to work out a trade deal with the mysterious chief of Rivakru seems a little... well, formidable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to the negotiating table

**Author's Note:**

> prompt fill: "We’ve been communicating entirely by email/phone/carrier pigeon/paid messenger for the past year as we work to bring some peace and order to this troubled land, so when I walked into the negotiation room to sit down with the fearsome and terrible politician/businessperson/famed warrior that all my people are so afraid of, I didn’t really expect it to be you."  
> I had a lot of fun writing this! I hope my first foray into writing for this ship turns out half decent. As always, reviews and constructive criticism are welcome!

Bellamy likes to think of himself as pretty tough. He’d say he deserves the title, too: he is the chief of Ceekru at the age of twenty three, whispered about and respected (grudgingly, but still) by the other clans, and a force on the battlefield (which probably feeds directly into the first two).

But, as his sister loves to point out, ‘tough’ doesn’t get them wheat.

“I could just fight Rivakru for it,” he had muttered, petulant to even his own ears.

Octavia had whirled on him, eyes narrowed. “Oh yeah? What was the latest news we got about their chief?”

Miller had answered from his post by the fireplace. “She helped Trikru fight and win Mount Weather from the Mountain Men, and she only had twenty warriors.”

“Exactly,” O had said. “And what else have we heard about her? She’s fierce, she’s scary, she’s a great tactician, her people are incredibly loyal to her, she’s forged connections with both Trikru and Sandkru, the Icekru are scared to death of her - “

“Alright, alright, I get it!” Bellamy had slumped down in his seat. “I’m just not a good negotiator, you know that.”

“Well luckily," she snapped back, "you’re not the only member of this clan.”

A few days later, Monty had gone to talk about a trading agreement with Rivakru.

Now, a few months later, he and the other clan’s chief were meeting at her campgrounds to hammer out the last few details of their agreement in person. He’s pretty sure he’s got this one in the bag, given how scarce dried fish and seaweed poultices must be for inland river-faring people. Monty is similarly confident, although a little rattled by how formidable their soon-to-be partners are.

“Just try not to get too snappy with the chief, okay?” he asks Bellamy as their party draws near Rivakru lands. “She doesn’t seem like the type to tolerate it. And don’t get too near Raven, she’s a little… territorial. And Murphy’s kind of… well, honestly, he’s a bit of a dick, but the chief manages to keep him under control. I, uh, wouldn’t test that, though. Just saying. And - “

“Monty,” Bellamy interrupts, not unkindly. “It’ll be alright, okay? I promise I’ll play nice.”

He magnanimously decides not to notice when Miller and O exchange dry looks.

There’s a lot of interest when the four of them enter through the gates ( _gates_ , Jesus, maybe Ceekru could take a few decorating tips from these people) and Bellamy is man enough to admit that he feels a frisson of nerves at the sight of their appraising, hard looks. Monty seems to be scanning the crowd for a particular face, and his search ends with a large smile crossing his face at the sight of a scrawny, messy-haired kid. “Jasper,” he calls, and the kid turns with an identical grin on his face. Miller shifts almost imperceptibly to Bellamy’s right.

“Monty, hey! Wow, this must be your clan - hi there! I’m Jasper,” the kid offers, and Bellamy blinks at his quick, almost hyper friendliness.

“Bellamy,” he replies, inclining his head.

“Ceekru’s seaweed poultices are going to do us a lot of favors, let me tell you, Chief’s been dying to get her hands on more of it after Monty brought her the first batch - “

Bellamy, who is privately thinking that Jasper’s tone is inappropriately casual when he references the chief, is a little relieved when they’re interrupted.

“Jasper, maybe we should tell them where they’re going,” a younger woman says, dark eyes both inquisitive but respectful as they flick over the four Ceekru members.

“Oh, right - this is Maya, by the way, she’s, uh… we’re kind of - “

“Show us the way, Maya,” Octavia cuts in. Bellamy gives Miller a smirk when the other man relaxes slightly at Jasper’s babbled introduction.

“Shut the fuck up,” Miller mutters as they walk toward the center of camp.

“Hey, you can’t shove me, we’re on a  _diplomatic mission_  here, I have to look respectable - “

“Stop,” someone interrupts. A scowl quickly drops over Octavia’s face, but Monty hurries to smooth things over with the new boy. 

“Uh, Finn, what exactly - “

“Ceekru’s chief only,” the long-haired kid replies, planting his feet in front of a large tent, and Bellamy almost wants to scoff at him. 

“I don’t think so,” he intones, and makes to push Finn out of the way.

“Hey, whoa!” Finn holds out his hands, one of which is holding a dagger. Octavia’s frown immediately explodes into a growl, her own fingers diving for her sword. 

“O,  _stop_  - “

“Finn, please, our chief just wants to make sure he’s not outnumbered - “

“You don’t  _trust_  Clarke?”

“Octavia,  _put the sword away_  - “

“Don’t tell me what to do, Miller, this asshole just pulled a knife on my brother - “

“What the hell is going on?” A new voice rises above the rest, and the entire camp seems to stop moving.

Bellamy looks over from where he’s backing up Miller to see a diminutive girl around Octavia’s age standing at the tent entrance, hands on her hips. Her blue eyes are hard as they take in the scene, and they rove around before finally resting on Finn. “Well?” she demands.

“I don’t want all four of them going in there at once,” Finn responds, eyes suddenly wide as he pushes a lock of hair behind his ear. Bellamy catches himself before he rolls his own eyes, but it’s a near thing.

The girl seems to have the same reaction, although she also dials it in. “Put your dagger away. This is diplomacy, not war; you used to be familiar with that concept,” she adds, almost wearily. 

The boy looks stricken at that, and does what she says.

“Please,” she continues, this time looking at Bellamy. She holds the tent flap open. “Come inside. I’ve been looking forward to this trade agreement getting finalized for some while now.”

“Wait a second,” Bellamy blurts out, before he can stop himself. “ _You’re_  Rivakru’s chief?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Clarke,” she introduces herself dryly. Her golden hair gleams almost maddeningly in the sun. “And I take it you’re Ceekru’s chief.”

“Bellamy,” he responds.

Her eyes assess him coolly from head to toe before returning to meet his own gaze. “Well,” she says, “I have to admit that you’re not exactly what I was expecting after all the rumors I’d heard about your battle prowess.”

Bellamy, who knows he would have normally taken that as an insult worthy of a fight, instead feels a grin spreading over his face. “Oh, trust me,” he shoots back, ducking past her and into the tent, “neither are you, princess.”


End file.
